The Last Prayer

conversations will simply give voice to their own dreams of freedom.”

“But are you certain this poses no threat to Hanna?”

Samuel lifted his palms, as if in supplication. “Nothing is certain. But I’ve looked into our history quite thoroughly. No child has ever been sent to a cleaning. It’s unlikely she’ll even be brought to trial. All we need is an arrest and the sweepers will march up top and demand the changes they long for.”

We all long for.

It seemed Adin could read his thoughts. “And you’ll have a ready-made excuse in your pocket to discredit Elias as chief priest so you can make your move.”

Close. More like a ready-made army to overthrow the priesthood and politicians both.

Samuel pursed his lips. “Tread lightly, Adin. Your place in the new hierarchy is not yet established. If you are not the man I’m looking for, I’m certain…other arrangements can be made.” Diplomacy at work.

The grieving father bowed his head and grumbled, “I’m your man.”

“Good.” Producing a small bag from an inner pocket, Samuel instructed, “Simply give Hanna one pill at bedtime—to calm her fears, tell her—and when she’s entered her first deep sleep place this in her ear.” He held up a tiny globe that connected to an audio device by a thin wire. “Then turn it on.”

Adin took the gifts, pocketing the pills but putting the earpiece in place. He pressed a button. His face clouded a few moments later.

Although Samuel couldn’t hear the words, he knew them by heart. Words manipulated from snatches of Lonni’s voice prints from the recording he’d been given the week before.

“Heaven’s real. It’s just outside. Clean the window so all can see.”

-5-

Present Time

“What of your promises?” Adin repeated, his eyes bulging. He whipped out the audio player hidden in his work-vest and threw it at his visitor.

Samuel caught the small device and stared in steely silence at the man who had lost one daughter and might soon lose another. His eyes softened when they took in Ester.

After a moment he replied, simply, “Have patience.”

“Patience!” Adin spat. “It’s been a year since you traipsed in here with your plans and assurances. And yet Hanna is a day away from cleaning.” Ester gasped and turned away. Adin continued in a choked passion. “Why haven’t the sweepers come to our defense? Where is the outrage? Patience, you say!”

It was true. The sweepers had not responded immediately to the arrest as anticipated. When the young girl was sentenced, they still had not acted. Puzzling. Adin had played his part, secretly alerting the sheriff to Hanna’s forbidden words, pretending to be a concerned and cooperative member of the silo. Yet the expected uprising had not occurred. Samuel, always planning, was not yet alarmed. But with nothing to show for his betrayal except a condemned daughter, the man in front of him was near breaking point and very much a concern to the priestly secretary.

“I think it best you get some rest. One never knows what tomorrow might bring.” Samuel pocketed the recording and said to them both, “I’ll return in a few hours and accompany you to the cafeteria. We’ll want to arrive well before dawn.”

Anger and anguish spent, Adin barely nodded in assent.

#

Elias pulled up a short stool and settled his weary body outside the holding cell of Hanna Tate. More than a few bars separated them. Hanna’s simple faith had put the old priest to shame; and he considered himself a true believer!

But he was old, his time was past. Perhaps he should retire and let his shadow-turned-secretary take over. That just might assuage his feelings of guilt. If only he’d paid more attention to these proceedings, Hanna might not be standing before him now, a night away from her execution.

The old priest sighed. If pressed, he’d have to admit that the demise of the priesthood occurred on his watch. Ever since the last uprising thirty years before, their influence had waned. They were thought responsible because of their failure to placate the masses. This he’d heard from the four sheriffs and two mayors he’d worked with over the years. Elias swallowed a bitter laugh. Sure, he’d outlasted a few politicians but their ilk had slowly taken over and he hadn’t even realized it. Samuel couldn’t do much worse.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hanna’s meek voice caught him off guard.

“What is, my child?” Elias looked at the screen that filled the back wall of the cell. It showed a dismal picture: a black and gray, poisonous world that existed just beyond their silo’s walls, just outside the yellow hatch door. A door just down the hall through which this poor soul would pass in a few short hours.

“The view of heaven,” she replied.

“But…it’s dark out there, child. The clouds are black, the winds are devilish….”

“That’s why we have to clean. The window is just dirty. But there, and there—do you see?—light is shining through!”

Elias looked closely at the pixelated view. He noticed a few scattered dots of white. To his discerning eye, these were simply burned out sensors, part of the visual array that had malfunctioned over the years and were no longer transmitting images from the outside. He couldn’t help but smile at the girl’s faith.

But instead of correcting her, he asked, “And you’re not frightened to go outside and clean the…the windows?”

Hanna shook her head, still captivated by the view. “The hill, I can’t quite see them, but it must be covered with flowers, don’t you think? And the buildings beyond, they must be castles like in the picture books at school.”

Elias offered nothing in reply, bowing his head and praying instead for more faith.

“So will you help me, Father? Will you help me clean so that everyone in the silo will know it’s true?”

Such a thought roused him from his reverie. And it struck him. Would he? Would that make a difference? Could his life count for something once again? Hanna’s faith was rare, but could this be the beginning of a resurgence of belief? A revival?

Down the hall, opposite the airlock, an office opened and Jedediah Alston stepped out. “Visiting hours are over, Father. I have to give Hanna her last meal soon. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Elias, alive now, maybe for the first time in years, came off his stool and faced the sheriff with an authority born of his long tenure as the upper levels chief priest.

“No, young man. I’ll be staying all night.” Alston, about to object, closed his mouth when the priest held up his hand. “And in the morning I’m going to help Hanna clean.”

-6-

Elias looked into the surprised eyes of Samuel as the secretary approached his holding cell next to Hanna’s. Beside him quivered an emotional pair, clutching at each other, reaching for their daughter through the bars. Sheriff Alston stood behind the three visitors, giving them them a brief moment for their goodbyes.

“Elias?” The question encompassed the whole of their relationship.

“Yes, Samuel. It’s time.” A renewed sense of purpose filled and thrilled the old man. “It’s your time. The silo needs spiritual leadership. Bring about the change it longs for. Bring about a renewal of faith, a resurgence of belief. I leave the priesthood in your competent hands. You’ve earned it through your many years of faithful service.”

“I… don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll take care of the workers, Samuel. The sweepers, especially. I know you will. You haven’t forgotten, have you? That they’re your family. That they belong to you and you belong to them. That you came from